Chapter 7: One Died

Huang Wei watched helplessly as Cheng Luyun, carrying Huang Chengcheng, knocked on the neighbor’s door. The door opened quickly, and after exchanging a few words with the person inside, she put Huang Chengcheng down.

Huang Chengcheng obediently waved to Huang Wei, telling them to come back soon.

Huang Wei felt listless and could only wave back.

After putting Huang Chengcheng down, Cheng Luyun returned to Huang Wei’s side and smiled at her: “Brother Wei, let’s go.” Cheng Luyun really liked to smile, her face gentle and tender, looking like a very amiable ordinary village woman.

But Huang Wei was an extremely observant person. She had long noticed that although Cheng Luyun always smiled, the smile never reached her eyes.

Her gentleness was never directed at her; it was just a superficial pretense. Only with Huang Chengcheng did Cheng Luyun’s tenderness come from the heart. This excessive ability to see through others’ intentions often troubled Huang Wei. If she didn’t understand others’ true feelings, she could just plunge in headfirst, but being too aware that others wouldn’t like her, realizing she was slowly sinking, made it all the more painful.

—If only that gentleness were directed at me.

Huang Wei couldn’t help but think, then immediately realized what she was thinking. The seemingly gentle woman before her was actually a ghost, and that alone should stop any further thoughts.

On the walk back from the village entrance yesterday, Huang Wei had actually memorized the route.

Not only was she observant, but she also had a good memory. By comparing the surroundings, she could easily retrace her steps.

But such a display wouldn’t please Cheng Luyun. She had to pretend not to know the way, staying a pace behind Cheng Luyun as they headed to the village entrance.

Along the way, they met many villagers. Seeing Huang Wei, quite a few greeted her: “Brother Wei, back, are you?”

“Ah… yeah.”

Huang Wei dismissed them one by one and also noticed something: they only greeted her, not Cheng Luyun beside her. Huang Wei was certain they saw Cheng Luyun; their glances toward her were full of fear, yet none spoke to her. If Cheng Luyun spoke to them, they would reply, but hurriedly, and then quickly leave.

After walking a while, they arrived at the village entrance. They were comparatively late arrivals—very late, actually. By the time they got there, a crowd had gathered under the two old locust trees at the entrance. The throng was like a supermarket during the Spring Festival, layers upon layers, surrounding something. Huang Wei couldn’t see inside at all.

Frowning, Huang Wei thought: at this rate, what could she see? Come here to look at the backs of heads?

But good news: because she had the ultimate big boss beside her, the villagers all made way, even saying, “Yo, Brother Wei, come to watch the excitement too?”

“Brother Wei, these are the people you brought back yesterday. You’ll have to explain.”

The crowd automatically parted, letting Huang Wei and Cheng Luyun into the inner circle. Just as she entered, Huang Wei saw the village chief sitting on a rattan chair under the old locust tree, gripping his walking stick planted on the ground. It was too easy to guess he was the chief—everyone else was standing, only he was seated, so who else could it be?

Around the chief stood several sturdy young men. A small, thin man with a stooped back, turned away from Huang Wei, was talking to the chief.

As he spoke, he also cried. A grown man behaving like that was a sorry sight. And on the other side, keeping their distance from the chief and his men, stood the group of players who had entered Huang Family Village the day before. They were spread out, also forming a circle, and in the middle was a rolled-up straw mat. It was clear that it held the person who had died the previous night.

To Huang Wei’s surprise, she thought most of the players would be dead—after all, this was the final instance, and it wouldn’t be unusual for half of them to die in one night. But the straw mat didn’t look like it contained many people. Besides, there had only been nine players yesterday, and now eight stood there, so only one had died.

Huang Wei didn’t even need to match faces; just the shoes of the person rolled in the mat told her who it was. It was the kindly-looking uncle who had spoken to her yesterday. Their group all wore bizarre outfits that looked very chuuni, each with distinctive clothing, making it easy for Huang Wei to remember who was who.

Huang Wei didn’t feel any sorrow over the uncle’s death—mainly because she knew: he wasn’t really dead.

To be precise, these players never truly died; they only died in instances and then revived in the Main God Space. With enough points, they could revive infinitely, just like players in a game.

In the earlier, simpler levels, players didn’t have many points, so they might not be able to revive after death. But having reached the final instance, they must have saved enough points before coming, otherwise it would be no different from suicide.

The Main God Space was for training them to do missions and clear instances, not to raise gu. It wouldn’t want seasoned fighters to die.

Huang Wei knew this, and the players knew it too, so there was no sadness on their faces. Rather, they were anxious to find clues to clear the instance. At this moment, they were forming a sort of standoff with the village chief’s group. Unluckily for Huang Wei, the spot she stepped into placed her right between the two sides.

Instantly, both the chief and the players turned their eyes to Huang Wei.

…Why are they staring at her? She just got here, didn’t know anything. Carry on!

Huang Wei screamed inwardly but didn’t dare show a thing on her face. The village chief, who had looked stern just moments ago, broke into a smile upon seeing Huang Wei, the wrinkles on his face bunching together. If an ordinary old person made that expression, it would be kindly, but the chief was different.

His piled-up wrinkles partly hid his eyes, which, already small, narrowed into slits. Yet within those slits, the chief’s gaze held not a trace of mirth.

The chief’s cold, emotionless eyes were strikingly obvious. In essence, it was the same as Cheng Luyun’s expression, but Cheng Luyun hid it well—had Huang Wei not looked closely, she probably wouldn’t have noticed. The chief, on the other hand, wore his ruthlessness on his sleeve, making his expression unsettling to anyone watching, even chilling if stared at too long.

“It’s Brother Wei…” the chief said, his voice somewhat muffled—age will do that. He had a full head of white hair and a long beard, clearly quite old. Yet for someone so old to still cling to the position of village chief, there was a ninety-nine percent chance something was off.

He called her name, and with so many eyes on her, Huang Wei had no choice but to respond: “It’s me.”

The chief grunted and, ignoring the nearby players, started chatting casually with Huang Wei: “I heard yesterday you were back. Good that you’re back. Stayed away so long, not caring about your wife and child. You need to work harder, give Sister Yun a big, fat son. I say, you shouldn’t go out anymore; there’s nothing good outside.”

Although the chief’s speech was muffled, his vigor was strong. He rattled off a long string of words without pausing for breath. But Huang Wei knew he had no need to breathe anyway—he’d been dead for who knew how many days, the grass on his grave three feet high. This frail, weak look was all an act; he could probably leap three feet in the air and knock her flat with his cane.

What he said was also pretty interesting. The preference for sons over daughters was ingrained in their bones; no matter how advanced the times, it couldn’t be changed, and it would be passed down through generations as they indoctrinated others.

As a village chief who had controlled many affairs for countless years, he didn’t want the younger generation to leave. If everyone followed “Huang Wei’s” example and went outside, who would be left to take his orders?

One sentence was enough for Huang Wei to recognize his nature as a feudal patriarch.

Huang Wei didn’t reply, and the chief seemed about to say more but ultimately didn’t. He coughed and added, “Brother Wei, you come over and listen too. After all, you brought these people back. Now that someone’s dead, we need to come up with some rules.”

Huang Wei had intended to listen, but not like this. Yet again, all eyes—both living and dead—were on her, so she could hardly say, “Don’t include me, I’m leaving.” Besides, she truly wanted to know what had happened. Huang Wei gave an “Ai” and walked forward with Cheng Luyun.

As they moved forward, even the stooped, weeping man before the chief stopped crying. When Huang Wei reached them, the man turned around and, with a somewhat ingratiating tone, said, “Brother Wei…” Huang Wei’s first impression was: this man is truly ugly.

Huang Wei had a bit of a face-con trait; she only went into lovestruck mode when seeing good-looking people. When she saw ugly people, there was absolutely no risk of falling, and she could barely keep from frowning.

This man had a pair of triangular eyes, a collapsed nose, and a mouth like a sausage. The fact that Huang Wei hadn’t thrown up on the spot was already giving Cheng Luyun a lot of face.

She was giving face because if she threw up now, the villagers and players would realize that what she ate last night and this morning had given her food poisoning—and that was the real reason she wanted to vomit.

The sleazy, shifty-looking man seemed about to say more, but the chief cut him off: “No more chitchat. Just spit it out—tell us what happened last night.”

The man glanced at Huang Wei, then at Cheng Luyun behind her. He put away his tears, rubbed his hands together, and prepared to recount the events of the previous night.